


The Price We Pay for Love

by As_Clear_As_Crystal



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Irondad Fic Exchange 2019, Mentioned Ben Parker, Minor Character Death, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22102588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/As_Clear_As_Crystal/pseuds/As_Clear_As_Crystal
Summary: An incident on patrol reminds Peter of his Uncle Ben.Tony is there to support him.*Irondad Fic Exchange 2019: for Hopeless_Hope*
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 126
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2019





	The Price We Pay for Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hopeless_hope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_hope/gifts).



> First, Happy New Year to Hopeless_Hope! I sincerely hope this story is what you wished for! Thank you for your great prompts! I enjoyed writing this so much. :)
> 
> I went with prompt number 3: “While Peter’s on patrol, he fails to save someone and they end up dying pretty much in his arms..."
> 
> *Please see endnotes before you read if you’re in any way concerned about trigger warnings (but I used the tags, too).
> 
> This is post-Endgame, but the only people that died were the bad guys. This isn’t explained in the story, just implied, lol. FFH never happened

Peter was frantic. Absolutely, out-of-his-mind terrified, pressing trembling hands firmly against a wound - sickened by the sight of the blood that seeped through his fingers. The victim ( _his name was Alex, Peter had found that out after he webbed up the shooter_ ) wasn’t responding to Peter’s questions anymore, and Peter was freaking out.

“Come on. Come on, come on, Alex - you’ve gotta hang in there! I called for help, ok? Help’s coming. You’re gonna be fine.” 

_Please, please, please don’t die. Please…_

Memories superimposed themselves over what he was presently seeing. The dark red stains on Alex’s white button-down shirt echoed the stains on his Uncle Ben’s gray polo. Peter’s breath caught. He could almost hear his uncle, choking out his last words - final breaths. And Peter couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop it. 

_”No, no, no. Please, Ben, you can’t…”_

_“Peter...” Ben had said, and that was all - that was all..._

_No. God, please..._

Peter tried to manage his breathing. He couldn’t think about Ben right now. He one-hundred-percent needed to focus. He pushed away the memories and started to breathe in to a count of four, like Mr. Stark had taught him. He could see Tony there, too, coaching him. Hold your breath for four. Breathe out to a count of four. Hold the exhale for four. 

Finally, Peter’s brain registered what was happening in the present. Alex wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t. Peter leaned in, pressing an ear to his chest, listening for a heartbeat, feeling for movement. Nothing. There was nothing.

“No, no no, don’t do this! You can’t…”

It was just like with Ben - it was just like back then, with a man unresponsive on warm cement, eyes staring unseeing at the sky, and Peter hadn’t been able to save him - hadn’t stopped him from bleeding out, no matter how desperately Peter tried. No matter how much he begged.

“The paramedics are here, Peter,” Karen gently informed him. 

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears to stop. The paramedics had come to help Ben, too. Peter turned and saw the flashing lights. He heard the dispatcher on the radio, and the movements of the EMTs as they hurried towards them. Peter was ushered away, and someone was talking to him; someone asked if he was hurt. 

He felt like his brain was full of cotton. He couldn’t think.

“No, he’s not breathing,” Peter said. He felt dizzy, like he wasn’t getting enough air. “So, please…”

“Peter, may I suggest you sit down?” Karen was talking. “Your breathing is too shallow and your blood-pressure is getting concernedly low. I believe you’re going into shock.”

Peter stumbled away from the hands of the medic that reached out to steady him. Of course he was in shock. Of course he was. A man was dead! Peter was covered in his blood - it was everywhere! Just like it had been with Ben. Peter felt sick. The paramedics were working, and the lights were flashing in the night - more sirens were approaching, drowning out the sound of the curious onlookers who gathered around. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered desperately, swaying on the spot.

The medic reached out to him; Peter shook her hands off. Stepped back.

“I’m sorry.”

He turned and ran.

*

Tony slowly opened Morgan’s bedroom door, softly approaching his snoring daughter. He wanted to check on her before he and Pepper went to bed. She was, of course, still sleeping like a baby. He smiled and kissed her forehead, tucking in the blankets that she’d kicked off as she tossed and turned. He wondered what she was dreaming about. Then, not for the first time that night, his thoughts turned to his other kid - the one who should be getting back from patrol, soon. The one who hadn’t texted Tony in several hours. Tony checked his watch. It was 5 minutes from Peter’s weekend curfew, but his AI hadn’t notified him that he’d returned to his room in Queens, yet.

“Cutting it kinda close, huh, Pete?” Tony muttered under his breath. 

Peter seldom missed curfew, and when he did it usually wasn’t just because he’d lost track of time. In fact Tony recalled the last time the kid was late: Peter had dislocated his shoulder so badly that he couldn’t swing home. Rather than calling anyone, Peter had thought it was a good idea to change out of the suit and walk home at 11:00 at night. Tony and May had lectured him soundly, until he swore to call for a ride if he was ever too injured to swing home again. 

Tony sighed, telling himself he was being ridiculous even as he fished out his phone. Peter wasn’t even really late. Still, he knew he’d only stop worrying when he heard the kid’s voice with his own ears. He started pulling up stats from the Spider-man suit as he exited Morgan’s bedroom. 

“Huh...” Tony’s eyes widened. According to the data, Peter was actually -

“Mr. Parker is here, sir. He just crawled in through the window in his bedroom,” Friday announced quietly, so she wouldn’t disturb Morgan. “I caution you that my visuals indicate Mr. Parker may be injured in some way, however Karen hasn’t reported any injuries from Spiderman’s patrol...”

“Damn it,” Tony turned and raced down the hallway before Friday finished speaking, unpleasant memories of Peter’s past injuries flitting through his mind - like the time he was stabbed - twice! - in the leg, or that time he inhaled toxic fumes while rescuing people from a fire. 

The time he was turned to ash on a distant planet….

Tony reached Peter’s room - the one he reserved for whenever the kid visited. He swung open the door without knocking.

“Lights,” Tony spoke into the darkness, breathing fast. “Peter?!”

Friday turned on the lights in the room, and Tony cursed when he saw his kid on the floor, slouched beneath the window. Tony ran to him, sinking clumsily to his knees by Peter’s side. This was a scene taken from his worst nightmares. Peter was hurt - his kid was hurt - his eyes were squeezed tight as if in pain. His whole frame was trembling, chest heaving with every breath. But what frightened Tony most was the blood. It was everywhere - Tony couldn’t even see where it was coming from. Maybe multiple wounds - streaks of blood marred Peter’s too-pale face. It was splashed across his neck, up past his right ear, in his hair. Tony’s eyes took it all in - Peter’s hands, his chest, his stomach - all darkened with garish stains.

He gripped Peter’s arms. 

“Pete? Hey - hey, bud. What happened to you?” Peter didn’t acknowledge him. Panic buzzed in Tony’s mind. Normally, even if the kid was injured, he still had something witty to say about it. Tony gently tapped Peter’s cheek, enough to get his attention. “Come on, Peter, talk to me!”

“Mr. Stark?” Peter whispered, brows furrowed, blinking up at him with red eyes like he was surprised to see him there. 

“Yeah. It’s me, kid,” Tony said, breathlessly, “Wanna tell me what happened?” 

Peter blinked again, and shook his head minutely. Tony didn’t wait around for a response - he was already checking Peter’s neck for any lacerations - there was too much blood there, but there weren’t any wounds that he could see. Tony let out a little relieved breath at that. He carefully examined Peter’s scalp, concern rising when Peter made no comments - no move to resist Tony’s frantic inspection. 

“Friday? A little help here?”

“Like I said, boss, Karen didn’t report any injuries. Peter does appear to be in shock, though. Would you like me to pull up the v-log from Spiderman’s patrol?”

“In a minute, Fri.” 

Tony pressed the hidden release to the Spider-suit.

Peter watched with a sort of detached fascination as the man patted him down. It was like he was seeing everything through murky waters. Peter knew, distantly, that Tony believed he was hurt, that he was searching for _where_ he was hurt, and Peter thought he should tell him he was fine so he’d stop worrying, but… Peter realized that would also mean explaining to Tony how he’d left a man dead on a street in Queens, and that thought suddenly terrified him - dried up his throat.

He’d failed Ben. He’d failed Alex. He didn’t want to fail Tony.

“Peter? I need you to breathe, bud. You’re gonna be ok.” Peter hadn’t realized he wasn’t breathing. He tried to fix that. His mentor took his hands, and he frowned when he saw Tony’s hands were stained red now, too, just like his. But, Tony didn’t seem to notice. He just pulled Peter’s hands to his chest. “Just like me, Pete. Breathe with me.”

Peter felt Tony’s chest rise and fall. It wasn’t like Ben’s. Peter’s own chest was tight, and little sobs kept escaping his throat, but he breathed in time with Tony, who massaged Peter’s knuckles with his good hand. 

After a minute, Peter realized Tony was talking with each exhale.

“You’re ok,” he was saying. 

“You’re safe.”

“I’ve got you.”

Peter knew he didn’t deserve this. Not after he failed so badly.

He had to tell him - had to say something.

“Tony, I… Uh. Messed up. S-something really bad happened...” 

Peter bowed his head, teardrops dripping on his lap. 

Tony’s mind was racing, thinking of a million different scenarios that could lead to this kid crying on the floor, shivering, covered in blood, and none of them were good, and Tony needed to fix this. He swallowed before speaking again. 

“Please tell me. Look, even if you did mess up, I’m the King of Messing Up, Pete. You know that… No judgements here, I promise. I’m here to help. Always. I need you to tell me what happened. I need to know if you’re hurt. I need to know.”

“I’m not hurt.”

“Seriously? You’re bleeding - there’s blood everywhere - so, don’t…”

“No, it’s not mine.”

“What?”

“It’s not my blood. God. I’m not hurt. I’m not. I’m fine.” Peter pulled his hand from Tony’s and hit his own chest, where the bullet wound was for Alex - and for Ben. “Look, I’m not bleeding. No one shot me. I didn’t get hurt. See? I’m fine. It’s… fine. So, you can stop worrying...”

Tony froze for half a minute, taking his own advice and breathing. Peter wasn’t hurt. He wasn’t hurt. That was so, so good, but… something _did_ happen, and no matter what Peter said, he certainly was not “fine.”

He wanted to reach out and take the kid’s hand again, or give him a hug, but Peter had tensed up, pulling his knees close to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, staring at his hands. He was closing himself off, and Tony didn’t know if he’d receive physical affection too well at that moment. Tony could understand the feeling - he’d been there, himself - when something hurts so much you can barely stand to have another person witness it.

But, Peter had come to Tony for a reason, and Tony wasn’t about to leave the kid alone. Not when he looked like he could unravel at any moment.

“Do you swear you aren’t hurt?” Tony asked. “If I find out you lied, I’m gonna put extra olives on all our pizza orders for the next two months.”

Peter gasped out a little laugh, looking up at Tony like he was crazy, and Tony felt some tension leave the room.

“Hey. There you are, Pete.” 

Peter sucked in a harsh breath, tears trailing down his face, and the wall he’d put up fell down just as quickly as it was built. Tony scootched closer, wiping at the tears with his good hand. 

“You aren’t hurt?”

“I’m not.”

“Ok.”

Tony shifted himself on the floor, until he was sitting side-by-side with Peter, leaning against the wall with their shoulders touching. Peter leaned into him, and Tony put an arm around his shoulder as if it would shield him from further pain.

“Do I get the whole story?” Tony asked gently.

It took a minute, but Peter finally nodded.

“I - I was out on patrol and I heard some guys arguing. I had - a really bad feeling about it. I tried to get there quickly, Mr. Stark, but I heard gunshots, and I - I got there too late. This guy - his name was Alex - he was shot ...” Peter’s voice broke. “He was... bleeding so much, and I tried to stop it like you guys taught me, but I couldn't…”

Peter shuddered and leaned his head against Tony’s shoulder. He was trembling, clenching his hands into fists, and Tony felt sick. Peter had faced a lot as Spiderman - even the end of the world, a battle of gods and aliens. But, it was another thing entirely for him to watch as a man bled out in front of him on a Friday night, on a street-corner in his own neighborhood...

Then Tony’s heart sank to the floor, because he realized this _wasn’t_ the first time Peter had witnessed death like that. Peter never talked about his uncle, but Tony had done his research before he met the kid. He knew Ben Parker had been killed in a shooting, and he also knew from a conversation with May that Peter had been present for his uncle’s murder.

Tony had known about it; had kept it in his mind as a way to understand Peter better. But, the kid never brought it up, and Tony wasn’t one to bring up painful memories. (Tony rarely spoke about his parents, so it never occurred to him that he should get Peter to talk about his own.) And now… he wasn’t sure what to say. Should he bring up Ben? Wait for Peter to talk about it? Would he?

What could he say to help his kid?

“Oh, Peter...” Tony whispered. “God, I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Peter said, “I couldn’t go home. I didn’t wanna freak May out. I just started running and ended up here.”

“Wait. You ran all the way here?” 

Thoughts of helping Peter through his past trauma evaporated with the sudden realization that this crazy teenager had just run 13 miles. He turned to face Peter (maybe a little too quickly, as he had to hold up a hand to keep him from toppling over once he was no longer leaning against Tony’s shoulder). Peter looked up at Tony reluctantly, and Tony worried about how pale he was, breathing still too shallow. He was leaning against Tony’s arm like it was the only thing holding him up. 

“Damn it.” Tony brushed a strand of Peter’s hair from his face, hand remaining on his forehead a bit longer than necessary. “Kid, I swear... Why the hell didn’t you call?”

“I mean, I didn’t run the _whole_ way - I swung a little, too.” Peter shrugged, like it didn’t really matter, but he looked completely spent, both physically and emotionally. “It stopped me from thinking.”

“Ok. “ Tony took a deep breath, patting Peter’s arm. “Ok, I get it...” 

He reached up and pulled the top blanket off of Peter’s bed, wrapping it around the trembling teen’s shoulders, then he pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“You’re too nice to me, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled, like he was talking to himself. 

“Nuh uh, kid. I want you to stop thinking like that… You deserve a lot better.”

“You’re the best,” Peter said, frowning. 

“Well, right back at ya, Pete.” Tony ruffled Peter’s hair affectionately. 

Peter sniffed, closing his eyes, and Tony grimaced. 

“Hey, Friday, can you tell Pep that Peter’s here? Ask her to bring a glass of orange juice to his room? And a granola bar, while she’s at it.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Thanks, Fri.” Tony looked at Peter. “Alright, Spiderkid, you did the right thing in coming to me, though I wish you’d called me or Happy to come get you. But... Baby steps. Here’s the plan. You ready for it?”

Peter nodded, focusing on his mentor’s voice - anything to distract himself from the gnawing feeling of guilt clawing in the pit of his stomach.

“Good. Perfect. Pep’s gonna bring you something to eat, so you don’t pass out on me and give me a heart attack. I’m gonna text your aunt so she can rest easy knowing her baby is safe.”

“Not a baby,” Pete whispered. Tony ignored this.

“It’s late, so I’m gonna suggest you stay the night. Sound good?”

Peter hummed an affirmative. He could feel Tony’s fingers working through his hair. It was reassuring; he soaked it in.

“Then, I think you should jump in the shower, kid. Can you - will you be ok to do that?”

Peter, bless him, tried to rise to his feet right then, “Oh, yeah. I - uh. I’ll do that.”

“Hold your horses, Spidey,” Tony held onto him, preventing him from getting up. “Let’s wait until we get your blood-sugar leveled out, huh? Since you ran 13 miles.”

“That’s only, like, a half marathon.”

Tony scoffed, giving Peter’s shoulder a playful squeeze. Peter smiled sadly, moving a hand out from the blanket to wipe the tears from his eyes. They seemed to have dried for the moment.

“I _am_ glad you came to me. But just for the record, your aunt’s a strong woman, she _can_ handle anything you bring to her. I love it when you come to me - I will _always_ want you to come to me - but I never want you to feel like you can’t go home, either.”

There was a pause, and then - 

“Thank you,” Peter whispered. 

*

Peter started feeling a little better once Pepper brought him the juice and a bite to eat. Tony left him to wash up in privacy, but advised him that Friday would let him know if he appeared to be in distress at any point. 

A little later, Peter wandered into the living room, puffy-eyed, but showered and wearing sweatpants and an MIT hoodie, Tony had already updated May. He spent the rest of the time while he waited for Peter making a sandwich and thinking of what to say to the kid when he saw him next. Tony figured he’d just have to take his cues from Peter. 

Tony motioned for Peter to sit beside him on the couch, handing him the plate with his food. Peter eyed the BLT doubtfully.

“Eat up,” Tony commanded. “Growing spiders need nourishment.”

The kid took a deep breath, grabbed the sandwich with one hand and took a bite. He wasn’t trembling anymore - didn’t look like he was going to pass out any minute like he had earlier - but he seemed haunted - defeated. Tony realized they were definitely going to have to talk about it. Peter took another bite. He didn’t even look like he was tasting it. He didn’t pick it up for a third bite.

“May told me to tell you she loves you,” Tony said.

Tears tracked down Peter’s cheeks again. He glanced sideways at Tony and wiped his face angrily, but more tears just fell in their place. Frustrated, Peter set his plate on the coffee table and flopped back against the arm of the couch opposite from Tony, bare feet propped up near his mentor’s legs, and he hid his face behind his palms. 

“I’m sorry.” Peter rubbed his eyes angrily and looked up at the ceiling, folding his arms across his chest. “I hate this.”

“I know,” Tony whispered, resting a hand on Peter’s ankle. “Look, Pete - this is the worst part of our job - The... the losing people part.”

“It’s all my fault,” Peter’s face scrunched up, before he hid it behind his arm, again. “Tony. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. I let him die…”

“No,” Tony said firmly, because he could not let this selfless kid think any of this was his fault. It made him sick to imagine Peter taking the blame. Peter, who hitched a ride on a spaceship so he could keep his friends and family safe, was the last person on this planet who should be blamed for some random act of violence. 

“No, you did not _let_ this guy die. Some jackass shot him, and _you_ , who by all rights should’ve been at home doing homework, or playing video games with Ted - instead, got soaked in some stranger’s blood, trying to stop him from bleeding out. How many 17-year-olds do you know that would do that? Because, personally, I can only think of one who regularly risks life and limb to save people whom he doesn’t even know - and who will never even be able to really thank him, because he keeps his identity a secret. Do you know how many lives you’ve saved? ‘Cause I’ve kept pretty close tabs over the years, and I can tell you there’s a number of people who are sleeping soundly in their beds tonight, who wouldn’t be around today if it weren’t for you.”

Tony could hear Peter’s heavy breathing from behind his arm. 

“I’m not that great, Mr. Stark.”

“Um. You are,” Tony gently shook Peter’s foot for emphasis. “Are you doubting my judgement? Because Peter Parker happens to be one of my favorite people in all the universe, and I am prepared to back up that statement with scientific data and eyewitness testimonies.”

“I just really feel like I keep screwing up,” Peter said, voice so very quiet, like he was afraid to speak too loudly.

Tony frowned. Usually Peter lit up like Christmas whenever Tony praised him, but at the moment, Tony felt like he was just losing more and more ground as Peter sunk further into the pit of despair, and he needed to say something - preferably the right thing - to pull his kid out of it.

“No, you… Peter, I can’t remember you ever really screwing up that bad…” Tony winced. That hadn’t sounded so great. “I mean, you regularly bite off more than I _personally_ think you should be chewing - metaphorically speaking - but you come out on the other side, ‘cause you’re strong and more than that - you’ve got a good head on your shoulders - ”

Tony was just rambling now, and he needed to actually say something useful, because Peter was curling his body away from the room, trying to disappear into the fleece blanket draped over the back of the couch.

“I mean, didn’t you _just_ save a whole jr. varsity basketball team from getting hit by a runaway truck last weekend? You saved them, kid.”

“It… It was my fault my uncle died.” Peter whispered. ”I never actually told anyone that, but… it was my fault.”

 _Oh._ Tony was an idiot.

“God, Pete, that wasn’t your fault.”

“It really, actually was.”

Yep. Tony was an idiot. He was - how did he spend years knowing Peter without realizing the kid was walking around blaming himself for his uncle’s death?

_We should’ve talked about this sooner._

Tony sighed. He scooted over, perching behind Peter’s back on the very edge of the couch. And, Peter didn’t turn to look up at him, still laying on his side staring at the blanket, but he did scoot a little to give Tony a bit more space. Tony put a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“Why would you think it was your fault?” Tony asked.

Peter sniffed, playing with the soft fabric between his fingers. “The guy who - uh - shot him? I saw him robbing a gas station the week before. I was walking home from the subway. It was late - after Decathlon. I already had my… uh, powers, you know? But, I wasn’t patrolling yet, or anything. I’d just been playing around... walking on walls, testing out my strength... like it was some kind of a game, or something. But, when I saw this guy running out of the gas station, I ducked out of the way. I should’ve gone after him. I didn’t have my webs back then, but I could’ve taken him to the police - I’m strong enough.”

Tony listened intently, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb on Peter’s shoulder. 

“So,” Peter took a trembling breath, blinking away tears that just rolled down his nose. “Five days later, Ben and I were getting ice cream at a deli. It wasn’t really that late - like 8:00… And, we walked out just as this same guy was running out of an ally. Uh. Later, we found out he had stolen someone’s wallet - and he ran into me - right into me, and we both sort of grabbed at each other to keep from falling...

“And, there was this moment where I recognized him, and I must’ve, like, shown it, and he realized I knew him, and maybe he thought I was going to try and stop him, or something, ‘cause he pulled out a gun…” Peter balled his hands into fists and held them to his chest. “And Ben shoved his way between us. The guy fired...”

Peter gasped, and it was like the kid could see it all happening again, because he groaned and curled even further into himself, pressing a hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. Tony knew the rest. He knew the ending. That asshole shot Ben Parker, and Peter watched the man who was like a father to him bleed out before the paramedics arrived. And today, some poor soul lost his life in the same way, and Peter, who was so very good at hiding his injuries, couldn’t cover up the pain over losing his uncle any more. 

“Peter,” Tony’s throat tightened, his eyes blurry as he watched Peter cry. Tony was in an interesting position, in that he actually knew what it was like to lose Peter - what Ben had literally died to prevent. It had been hell. It had gutted Tony to watch this kid die, and now through some great miracle, Peter was here in his life, again. Tony was crazy about him - would do anything for him, really. And, he knew without question or hesitation; Peter was worth dying for. He was worth it to Tony, one hundred percent. 

Ben Parker understood that, so he had Tony’s deepest respect. He saved this wonderful kid, and for that, he was Tony’s hero. So, he tried to think of what Ben Parker might want someone to tell Peter, right then. It was the very least he could do, for Peter. Tony had never met Ben, but he _was_ a father. He thought of what he’d want someone to tell Morgan, or Peter, in a similar situation.

“Peter Parker,” Tony leaned down, running gentle fingers through Peter’s hair with his right hand, and enfolding Peter’s trembling hands with his mechanical one. “I’m so very proud of you.”

Peter sobbed, grabbing onto Tony’s hand.

“Your uncle was a hero.” Tony soothed, “Guess where you got it from, Pete? Same heart. Don’t deny it, Kid-Who-Followed-Me-Into-Outer-Space. He would be so, so proud of you.”

The kid whined through clenched teeth, and after a moment’s deliberation, Tony put his arm around Peter’s shoulders and coaxed him to a sitting position, scooting between Peter and the arm of the couch, so the kid was leaning on him, instead. 

“Come here, Pete, just… Let it out, kid...”

Peter turned and planted his face into Tony’s shirt, gripping the fabric, and Tony surrounded him in his arms. 

“Tony,” Peter cried, “I didn’t want him to do that. I didn’t want him to...”

“I know, I know,” Tony kissed Peter’s curls and rocked back and forth gently, like he would with Morgan. “You loved him.”

“I’m Spiderman; I - I should’ve done something…”

“You weren’t Spiderman, yet, Pete. You didn’t even know that was something you wanted to be. You were fourteen. Why would you think to go after a shop-lifter? You’re judging your fourteen-year-old self by your current Super-Spidery standards, and that’s not fair to you. Now, your uncle was the adult, he didn’t need super strength or a nano-suit. He just needed to be a good dad, yeah? Some jerk threatened his _son_. You better believe he jumped in to protect you. And, I know it hurts, I know. I know. And I’m sorry. But, I promise you he would never want you to feel guilty about it.”

“I miss him…”

“I know. I know.” Tony whispered. He rested his cheek on top of Peter’s head, and closed his eyes. “I know, Pete.”

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." 

Tony wasn't sure if Peter was talking to him, or to Ben. Either way, his answer was the same.

"None of this is on you, Pete. This wasn't your fault. Please trust me on this one, kid."

Tony couldn’t fix this, exactly, but he could give his kid a safe place to cry. He could comfort him; tell him he was ok. 

"You're a good son, Pete. He loved you. He protected what was most precious to him. Believe me, bud, I would know."

Tony continued to hold him. Eventually, he started humming a song, as he would with his daughter, and it seemed to be helping, so he kept humming softly, until Peter’s breathing mellowed out, and the tears seemed to subside.

“I love you,” Tony said, quietly, because it was so - so true, and in this quiet moment after Peter had laid his heart bare, it seemed only right for Tony to bare his.

Peter inhaled roughly, frozen for a second, before he wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist, returning the hug. Tony blinked tears out of his own eyes, not for the first time in awe of this kid, who still after everything had so much love to give, and for some reason chose to offer it to Tony.

Eventually, Peter shifted in his arms, and Tony loosed his grip, but kept a hand on the kid’s shoulder. Tony was relieved when Peter was finally able to look him in the eye.

“Thank you,” Peter whispered. “You’ve uh, gotten really good at this, Mr. Stark. Tony.” 

Tony smiled fondly at him, cupping Peter’s jaw with his calloused hand. “Think so, kid? Think I’ve broken that cycle of shame, yet?”

Peter nodded, smiling softly. “You kicked that cycle’s ass.” 

“Good.” Tony sniffed. He loved this kid. He loved him so much. How did he ever live without him? “I gotta - I gotta be a good dad for you and Morgan, yeah? You kids deserve the world.”

“I love you,” Peter said quickly, like he had to say it before he lost his nerve. “So. Just so you know. In case you didn’t know.”

Tony inhaled sharply, something in his heart breaking and shifting into place, like he’d been missing something all this time, and now he had it, right in front of him. His eyes were blurry, again, and he couldn’t quite speak, but he smiled like he’d just been handed the keys to the world. He choked out a rough, “Thank you,” and wrapped his arms back around his kid.

**Author's Note:**

> Endnotes:  
> Trigger Warnings: This story deals with grief - emotional hurt/comfort over the loss of a loved one (Uncle Ben), and as per the prompt, the loss of a minor OC. There’s lots of comfort! But, the emotion of grief is very much there throughout the story. Also, there’s a lot of blood, although I didn’t make the actual injury graphic at all. Gun violence, off-screen. Peter is really panicky in the beginning, and is in shock. Not sure if that would be a trigger. Some swearing, but I don't think it’s above PG-13.
> 
> The title is taken from the quote: "Grief is the price we pay for love." — Dr Colin Murray Parkes, from the book, ‘Bereavement: Studies of Grief in Adult Life.’ (I’ve never read the book, but the quote was made popular by Queen Elizabeth II.)


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